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Mystery Romance

(The first three chapters of this story are in the first three Armchair Detectives' prompts)


Well, guess who's the girl who beat the head of the boy she liked with a stick?


It's Sani McGibbons, y'all.


I'm not sure there's any way to make him love me, but that certainly wasn't something that will increase my chances.


I'm the heroine of this story by the way.


This story started for me when my daddy and mommy smiled at me.


Let's see, things get a little bumpy from then on. One mommy dies. Another comes along, like mommies are made from thin air. Oh, sure, I can call a stranger Mother. It's because I'm getting good at lying.


A boy is born. The parents think he's my brother. I can call anything lying in the gutter my brother. I'm that good at putting truth last.


We live together. There are many things I don't understand but that's because I'm little and dumb, not because they don't make sense.


For instance, we have a lot of mansions even though Daddy never works.


Whootsas, what did that matter to a little girl like me?! I had so many places to play, and my Daddy was always around for me to cry and laugh with. I didn't need to know.


I could live without knowing some things.


Now I'm going to tell you a good part of the story, skipping unnecessary bits where I find out what's up and everything. I didn't like that part and I still don't, even though I could make you believe I did.


The good part is when I meet the boy and think he's too nice. While I'm busy thinking this, of course there's truth going on underneath that, but for now I don't know that, so I'm living in bliss.


I get to talk to him and share my opinions and tell him what I did that day, and the underlying fact that bewilders me so much is that even if he's not listening I'm happy to be there, happy to be getting to do those things.


That's dumb. It's so seriously dumb there's no way to describe it.


My partner whispers, Time's running out. We move. If we don't keep up this dance, with quick steps always ahead of the game, a stranger will cut in with a knife.


I think it's sad how time doesn't stop to stare at my lovely moment.


I could be making all kinds of mistakes in it, but I'm having fun.


I'm so happy to be reflected in his eyes.


Oh, do I have to finish the story? Why not leave things hanging here on the good part?


My partner whispers, It's time to go. We're so busy. Our plans spin out and dizzy us. They can bring something out of the depths of nothingness.


There was displeasure in those eyes. Distance. Anger. Irritation. Mockery. Coolness.


And then I thought I saw something! Oh, there! Look at it! It is so beautiful, I shiver.


It is my answer.


I think I see it in his eyes, the answer I'm seeking. It is so fleeting, so umbral, I can't be sure--


You see, wanderers in the desert wish for what they want and they see it.


If it exists, it's just holding a slippery fish. I can only grasp it for so long before it gets away.


I don't want to admit it, but this boy is beyond me. He seems to say two things at once, and they are opposites. He is child, he is man, he is father, he is son, he is giving in to me, he is unconquerable.


He is stronger than me. I can't beat him if he is against me.


And there are so many things that would make this good boy view me as an adversary.


My partner whispers, Look at your skill. Whip the horses of your talent and let them run! Soon it will be you leading the dance. I'm fascinated to see your transformation. Leave the pail and shovel, childhood tools of creation; leave the landscape of dreams, childhood's playground. Take up the tools of a painter, step out into the real world.


Maybe we came from the same place, innocence. I did not linger there, a large beastly hand was holding mine and pulling me away from there.


If I had stayed... the ending of this story would be no mystery then.


The nice girls are the ones that the nice boys like.


Take Viola, for instance. She treats her friends kindly and has no double motives. If she let a lie slip between her lips, you'd notice.


She's sparkling with my forgotten innocence, as if she stole it from me.


Don't get confused.


I'm the one who steals.


...It can't make him angry if he doesn't know.


He can't lose faith in me.


The dream doesn't end here. It ends when I tell it to.


Why are my hands so little still? They can't hold onto this fish, it's getting away from me!


Time is running out. It never paused for one moment. Time is truly gifted in leaving us behind.


The first place medals dangle in every corner of its bedroom, the bed cover untouched for millennium, covered in dust.


I can't beat time, it's unbeatable. I have to live in my moment until it escapes me.


I can only take what I can get. So I reach out and grab everything.


Greed is my ruler. I will not include others' dreams in my own, there's no space to waste on their needs. I need, I need, I need the most.


I won't give up what I want.


On an entirely different plane of existence, the boy dreams and needs.


I don't know what's in his head.


Could I ever really be close to someone so obscure?


Could we overcome the fact that we aren't compatible?


I want to know.


I want to know if he loves me.


I'm going to leap. Catch me when I fall.


There are things I can't live without knowing.


(The fifth chapter of this story is in the fifth consecutive Armchair Detectives' prompt)

October 25, 2019 21:13

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